


Bruises And Bitemarks

by Uchihas_rose



Category: Professor Moriarty: The Hound of the D'Urbervilles - Kim Newman, Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Torture, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-16 01:27:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28573740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Uchihas_rose/pseuds/Uchihas_rose
Relationships: Sebastian Moran & Jim Moriarty, Sebastian Moran/Jim Moriarty
Comments: 6
Kudos: 8





	1. Prologue

_The boy could hear the heavy breathing around him and instinctively, he huddled together more, making himself as small as possible. He barely dared to draw breath, hugging his knees as tight as he could. Steps sounded down the stairs, the door was burst open, crashing down to the ground and the light flooding the darkened room illuminated a corpse lying on the splinters that remained of the door._

_The boy shied as far back into his corner as he could. The splinters peered through the man’s chest, the sheer force of the impact enough to kill a man, let alone a vampire. Hiding his eyes and face from the blending light, the boy blinked through his fingers, watching in fascination as the vampire’s body dried before him, mummifying due to the blood loss it was now facing. The air captured in long-dead lungs revealed itself with a gurgling, rattling sound and then it lay still. The boy removed his hands from his face and crouched closer, watching the dead vampire, before he dipped his fingers in the blue puddle surrounding the dead creature, smearing the vampire blood on the cold concrete floor. Again, footsteps sounded, men shouted._

_“Down here!”, a voice called, “he must’ve gone down here!”_

_The boy shied away again, hiding his face in his hands once more and pressed his eyes shut, as tightly as he could._

_“What is tha-”, he could hear the voice again, much closer now than before, “hurry! There’s a-“_

_The voice stopped mid-sentence and the boy carefully lifted his face, staring at the man standing before him. He could see shock and surprise on the other’s face, then the man turned toward the stairs and shouted: “Call an ambulance! There’s a child!”_

_The man crouched down in front of the boy, looking at him._

_“Hey… It’s alright now, okay? It’s over now.”_

_He pointed to the vampire’s corpse next to them._

_“He can’t do anything to you anymore, you hear me? Are you-“_

_Again, the man paused in the middle of his sentence, when the boy straightened himself slightly and the man got a full look of the countless bite marks which covered the boy’s body._

_The boy rose his head, staring the police man into the eye._

_“It’s not over”, he said while the officer still stared at him in shock, “it’s just begun.”_

_He got to his feet, wiping the blood off his fingers and walked past the officer towards the door. He stumbled slightly, leaning against the door frame and blinked into the light coming from upstairs._


	2. Chapter One

Ever noticed that there is quite the similarity between _entertainment_ and _eternity_? In my world, those words are often used as a synonym. Of course, it’s always a matter of perspective, but speaking from the not-human aspect of this, I am pretty sure there’s little truth to it. See, what humans fail to notice is that the “entertainment” of eternity wears off pretty quickly and then you’re just stuck with “eternity” which lasts much longer than you’d first expect.

I stretched and yawned, blinking at the boring grey wall opposite me. A fly was crawling over the concrete and, for the love of God, that was literally the only interesting thing to happen during the last five hours. This was one of the times I wished vampires could just say “Sod this, I am off” and turn into a bat. But that was – sadly – just fiction.

Scratching my nose, I turned my attention away from the fly to the buzzing of policemen at the station. I had been spending my fair share inside holding cells, both as a human and a vampire, and honestly, compared to the 19th century, humanity did not put much improvement into that. They’re still bloody uncomfortable and Scotland Yard is still run by a bunch of bloody imbeciles.

A quick glance to the clock hanging on the wall outside the holding cells confirmed that the sun was about to rise – which meant that my temporary imprisonment was to be over in just a few minutes.

“Drunk and disorderly”, those were the magic words that had been offering me tonight’s comfort, curtesy by your average British taxpayer, but this had been a two-person job and I was the “disorderly” part in the duo. Memo to myself: Next time, ignore the drunken fellah who’s insulting you and don’t hurl the feckin’ table at him. Weird, I kept getting the feeling I had written this exact memo before…

The day had been quite nice, actually – until I had given in to my old weakness of human days and went to next best club for a pint of beer and a game of cards. Back in the 19th century, when I had still been human, I had had a reputation around the local clubs and not just for my marksmanship or services at the 1st Bangalore Pioneers. I had been gambling at every possible opportunity and when you’re with the Army, you have a lot of opportunity. Usually, I rose the table as a winner – though more often than not because I had slid an ace or two out of my cuffs.

Nowadays, I had no need of such human profanity of cheating. Nowadays, I could tell by my opponent’s heartbeat whether or not the odds were in my favour. One could argue or not if it was cheating, because it wasn’t my fault my senses were heightened, and I made use of them.

Long story short: One of my fellow players, who had been severely drunk when I joined the game and who kept jugging down whisky as if it was water, grew a bit sour as he kept losing. I was never known for keeping a cool head, so when he started insulting me, I flipped the table at him and hurled both of them crashing through the bar. That was the end of the game and my freedom for the next 24 hours, probably even of the bar for that night. Since the club had been one of my three regulars for over two centuries and the existence of vampires was well known to the public, I was pretty sure they got insurance for vampire related damage at some point. They’d lose two days of income tops, but the insurance company would cover that easily.

“Colonel Moran!”, sounded the voice of my most favourite copper and I gave DI Lestrade a broad, toothy grin, presenting him my fangs. Lestrade just rolled his eyes and handed me a paper bag containing my personal belongings through the bars, before he pulled the cell door open.

I eyed the bag in amusement. “Worried about your carbon footprint, eh?”

Lestrade sighed and pointed to the door at the other side of the police station.

“Please just leave and don’t be back here when I return for my shift tomorrow.”

“Can’t promise you that”, I replied, “you know how it goes… Life is what happens.”

Lestrade didn’t look too amused. No surprise, I had never met a copper with an ounce of humour. I decided not to push my luck too far, gave him another flashy grin and a cheerful wave neither of which he returned and made my way to the door. Before opening it, I pulled the double shaded sunglasses from the paper bag to protect my eyes from the sun and steered toward the next bar to drink to my freshly regained freedom.

_The Topplin’ Bat_ was a bar owned and run by vampires, the very first back in the day and in my opinion still the best. Opened 24 hours and by now suitable for both vampires and humans, it was my haven after a rough night. For now, it was my main source for quenching my thirst.

I entered the bar, claimed a seat right up front and dropped my sunglasses back into the paper gift bag of Scotland Yard. Besides my sunglasses, the bag contained my other personal belongings – my wallet, my keys and my phone.

“One grande”, I ordered when the vampire behind the bar turned towards me. She nodded and started to fill a glass with the red liquid which she pushed over to me. In bars like this, the blood usually came from slaughter houses or hunters, sometimes spiced up with some donor blood. I was pretty sure the owners of _The Topplin’ Bat_ kept no human blood slaves, but who really knew what was going on behind closed doors?

I gulped down the first half of the glass, then sat it down, my worst appetite satisfied for now. Sipping more slowly, I emptied the contents of the paper bag onto the bar, turning on my phone to check for any new messages. I had one – by my Internet provider telling me that my contract would be renewed in a month. Otherwise, nothing. I sighed, deleted the message, and zapped through some of the different apps on my phone.

“It’s Basher, isn’t it? Sebastian Moran?”

I looked up, right into the face of a plump, short vampire in a tux. He smiled broadly at me, not bothered in the slightest by my unwelcoming face.

“Archibald Stamford”, he introduced himself, interpreting my frown for the inability to remember his name instead of a non-verbal warning of him staying the bloody hell away from me – oh, well, I guess it actually was a mixture of both – and sat down next me, uninvited, “remember me? Islington police cell, back in 18-something?”

I did remember vaguely, at least I was able to set a time and place to the vamp next to me now – which might explain why I did not remember him earlier.

I nodded shortly, acknowledging that I did, in fact, remember him – which he took as an invitation to become my temporarily drinking buddy. With a dramatic gesture, he ordered two more and pushed one of the blood-filled glasses towards me, indicating he’d be paying for them. I didn’t say no. Only an idiot would poo-hoo on a free drink.

“Had a rough night?”, Stamford continued in a pathetic attempt to make small talk. I had never been a friend of small talk, neither as a human nor a vampire, and so I just growled quietly, emptying my glass and took a sip of the new one Stamford had so kindly provided.

Stamford smiled sympathetically.

“Yes, it’s an odd time for all of us…”

I snorted. Back in the day, Archibald Stamford had been a forger – though not a very successful one. I doubted two centuries had added much talent to his chosen profession.

My silence seemed to invite Stamford to talk even more. Had he been human, I’d have blamed his loose tongue on alcohol, but considering his species, I doubted that was the case. The man just seemed happy to have someone he could empty his brain to, small as that brain was. I prepared myself for the usual wallowing of _It’s nothing like the good ol’ times, y’know, back then, remember?_ , when he said something that caught my attention.

“… but there is a new wind coming around. Have you heard yet?”

My brows furrowed. No, I obviously hadn’t heard of a new wind and after two centuries a _new wind_ could mean literally anything.

Stamford smiled at my obvious confusion and leant closer to me, even though the vampire at the bar would be able to hear him as easily as if he had spoken in a normal tone of voice.

“Your… profession hasn’t changed since we last met, has it?”

I smiled, baring my teeth for a moment. My _profession_ , as Archie had called, had never changed, not in two centuries. After all, turning into a vampire had only improved my marksmanship and even in the 21st century, there was a surprisingly large number of people who wanted to have death inflicted upon other people and were willing to pay just anything for that.

Archie took my silence as a yes; his eyes started to glisten.

“There is a fellow”, he began, “someone who… has been doing some thinking about order and purpose.”

I did my best to stifle a bellowing laughter.

Order and purpose, indeed. Despite people knowing about the existence of vampires and vampires being considered as full members of modern society, not everybody was willing to play by human rules. Vampires weren’t humans, why should they behave like humans? They were _better_ than humans and they had quickly adapted to criminal deeds which gave them the freedom any adaption to human society denied them. I was no different. The only thing I had ever known to do was killing and gambling – and the underworld proved to be much more welcoming of my skills than the British Government would be. I had been kicked out of the Army twice – they weren’t going to take me back and mobsters paid much better than any Queen or King ever did.

The underworld was ruled by a constant hacking order – or rather, no order at all. Trying to bring order into this crazy mess of murderous, criminal vampires… Whoever that fellow was, he really had balls for even trying to do that.

“Good luck to him, then”, I snorted sarcastically, “he’ll be staked soon enough.”

Archie’s face changed, he looked almost surprised. He put a hand into his pocket, handing me a card.

“You might want to check him out”, he said, putting the money for our drinks on the table, donned his hat and his sunglasses and gave me a smile, “you might find him… interesting.”

Then he was gone and I stared at the card Archie had given me. Interesting, huh?

_Professor James Moriarty_

_44 Conduit Street_

_Mayfair, London_

I emptied the glass of blood in front of me and pocketed the note, rising. It wouldn’t hurt to take a look at this Moriarty-guy, would it?

Jim

_We cannot change our past. We can only learn to live with it. We all have our own way of doing so. And some wounds never truly heal, but scar which mark us for the rest of our lives. If we’re lucky, they might fade into a distant memory. If we’re not, they always force us to relive our past. But they also remind us of what we survived. A scar is nothing to be ashamed of. It’s a sign of survival. A sign of victory. Of strength._

I stared at the words, reading them over and over again until they stopped making sense to me. Then I shut the notebook and stored it inside the secret compartment of my desk drawer.

Scars... Everyone had them, human and vampire alike. Some of them were visible, but most weren’t and as usual, it was easier to get sympathy from people when they could see the suffering.

When people saw my scars, though, it was different. My scars did not evoke sympathy. They provoked shocks and gasps, horror that someone had to through something as ghastly – but that was of no use to me or anyone who had faced the same fate. People used to believe that what had happened to me was the exception, that there were just a few amoral vampires – like there were amoral humans – who took pleasure in harming others, but I knew better. That wasn’t the exception, it was normality, just like every human had the theoretical potential to become a serial killer. The only difference between vampires and humans was that vampires were human 2.0 – better at almost anything and while the Government lived in its beautiful bubble of believing they had tamed the beasts once roaming only the fictional world, people like me knew better. The Army Virus, as it was still called, was too much for them and sooner or later, humanity would be extinct or enslaved by the vamps. In either case, humanity was doomed from the moment they had let the vampires enter society. It was no coincidence that the crime world contained mostly of vampires nowadays – they were more efficient than humans in every way and crime had always been the earth’s oldest profession.

Our world was already lost to the vampires, whether the Government believed it or not, so what better way to learn about your opponent but to live with him as close as you possibly could?

My entire life had been dedicated to numbers. Everything in life was controllable by numbers, especially something as unruly as London’s underworld. Even when said underworld was crawling with vampires. Calculations, equations – it was so easy to unravel everything about the world into numbers. By controlling numbers, controlling the world was just one step away. Or rather, in my case, one specific part of the world.

So far, things were going well. The vampires, particularly the ones running the mobs and illegal traffic routes, tended to look over the pesky little human drawing charts. It was just a human, after all, no threat could possibly come from a human, especially not to a vampire. A mob of humans, yes, that might be problematic, but one single human? From a vampire’s perspective, that was nothing more but a snack.

Lovingly, I stroked over the little velvet bag which was containing several syringes filled with liquified Saint John’s Weed. It had taken some experiments to properly determine the effects this beautiful, yellow flower had on vampires and it still wasn’t finished. Test subjects succumbed too fast to the concentrate for now; it still hadn’t been properly developed. For now, the substance only inflicted temporary pain, with luck it knocked the vampire out, but there were still too many factors which needed to be taken into consideration. But it was a start. The beginning of a weapon.

The British Army was mainly using vampires as soldiers, weaponizing the oldest curse of humanity for their own gain. I had been building a counter weapon and would sell it to the highest bidder. For the right price, of course. But it wasn’t all just about profit. There came a very personal pleasure from it as well…

Lost in thought, I rubbed one of the scars marking my wrist – a crescent ring, with two darker spots at the corners resembling perfect symmetry. My entire body bore those marks and usually I kept them hidden, but sometimes, I caught myself rubbing them, like other people would rub their nose when in thought. It was an unpleasant habit, one I’ve been trying to get rid off for years.

A tap on the door to my office let me flinch and I pulled my sleeve back over my wrist to hide the scar, before I cleared my throat and bade whoever was on the other side of the door to enter.

It was Mrs Halifax, my landlady who so kindly had provided me with the comfort of the empty rooms above her brothel. It surely made an unusual place of living, but I preferred the anonymity it provided. A brothel was, after all, the last place where anyone would be looking for me. Plus, I enjoyed the shocked gasps coming from my colleagues at university where I taught Math classes upon their question where I resided. Usually, they started laughing afterwards and took it for a jape, which was fine with me. It wasn’t like people interacted with me very often. Human I might be, but my past had marked me and they felt uncomfortable around me. Some of my students were afraid of me. _Excellent._ I did not need prying eyes and curious inquiries, not in what I was aiming to archive.

_Respectable, decorated Maths professor to the outside; criminal and vampire assailant on the inside._

A modern approach of _Jekyll and Hyde_ , set in modern _Dracula,_ with maybe a hint of _Frankenstein_ , considering how the Government named themselves the revolutionaries of modern science by finding the monsters a place in this world. I wondered if any of them had ever read the original stories from the Victorian Age. Probably not. Few people shared my taste for classic literature – or literature in general.

Mrs Halifax cleared her throat in a delicate cough, bringing my attention back to her and my eyes narrowed. I had assumed she was here to bring me my afternoon tea, but her hands were empty.

“There is someone downstairs, Professor”, she said. That was why I liked her – always respectful and polite towards me, but a tongue worse than any sailors when it came to anyone who thought to snub her or her girls for their profession or was foolish enough to require services without coughing up payments.

“A vampire”, she continued when I gave no response, “an old one. Colonel Sebastian Moran. He has one of your cards. Would you like me to take him upstairs or would you rather I sent him away?”

The tip of my middle finger traced my bottom lip while I listened and tried to form a decision.

_If he has a card, he must’ve met Stamford… And if Stamford has given him the card, he must be interesting…_

I closed my eyes for a moment and Mrs Halifax waited respectfully in silence while I thought. Eventually, I opened my eyes and nodded.

“Bring him upstairs, please. And refreshments for both of us, if you’d be so kind. Thank you, Mrs Halifax.”

The woman nodded and turned, closing the door to my office on her way out. Shortly after, I heard footsteps coming up the stairs – _rhythmic steps, heavy for a vampire, but not unusual for someone wearing boots and he’s former Army material, after all…_ \- and then the door to my office was flung open, the wood crashing against the wall behind. I couldn’t help a tiny flinch.

The vampire looked at me, his nostrils flaring slightly, while his jaw slacked in evident surprise. A tiny smile curled the corners of my mouth.

“Greetings, Colonel Moran”, I said, without rising from behind my desk, “it’s a pleasure and an honour to meet you in person.”

Moran was still staring at me, completely lost for words. Then he burst out laughing.

“Alright, human!”, he sneered, “you had your fun, now piss off and let the big men play. Where’s this Moriarty guy who’s supposedly ruffling up this mess of an underground?”

I tilted my head from side to side, slowly, like a cobra getting ready to strike, but said nothing.

Moran took a step towards my desk, looming over me and baring his fangs.

“I had a very unpleasant night, human, which does not make me very patient. Now, where’s your Master? I am here for a chat.”

_Feisty one._

I gestured to the free chair next to him.

“Why don’t you have a seat first? Then we can discuss the details of our… future partnership.”

Again, Moran started to laugh, staring at me.

“You’re shitting with me, human!”, he said eventually, “no, seriously, now.”

He hovered over me, fangs glistening.

“I’ve had enough now!”, he growled, in case I hadn’t understood the obvious threat, I assumed, “you will take me to your master now, because there is no way _in hell_ such a puny creature as the likes of you could possibly take the underground.”

My fingers cramped around the velvet bag, the syringe inside, while pictures flooded my head and my scars ached. For a moment I was unable to move, everything but those fangs looming over my head erased from my consciousness.

Moran scented openly, deeply inhaling the air.

“I hope your master will understand why I took a feed from his little pet”, he spat, closing in on me.

_One. Two. Three. Four. Five._

Rising up my arm as if to defend myself from the attack, I inserted the needle into the vampire’s and injected the liquid.

For a moment, the vampire stared at me in shock, before – finally – realisation appeared on his face.

“ _Moriarty…_ ”, he groaned and collapsed on the carpet in front of the desk.

Mrs Halifax opened the door, carrying a tray with two cups. She looked down at the unconscious vampire and sighed, handing me my tea.

“Again?”, she asked, putting down the second cup on the desk, “Professor, do you think one of these days you are going to have a normal job interview with the people showing up here? I doubt that chaining up the applicants will bring you the results you wish to achieve. Even if it is a criminal business you’re about to get started, most people and vampires do not take kindly to being chained up during a job interview.”

I shrugged and took a sip of my tea while Mrs Halifax placed the Colonel in the chair he had refused and applied the diamond chains around his wrists and ankles to keep him in place after he woke up.

“I have a good feeling about this one”, I replied, setting down my teacup, “he recognised me right before he went down. Compared to the others, I’d say that’s an improvement.”

Mrs Halifax sighed again and tutted.

“At least this time, there is no mess on carpet”, she said, “he seems to have some civility, for now.”

“Some”, I agreed, “the rest we will find out, I suppose. My thanks, Mrs Halifax. I’ll call you if there is any need of your services.”

“Certainly, Professor. I let any callers arriving at our door know that you are occupied.”

I nodded, watching her leave the office, and turned my attention back to the vampire across from me.

_Well, well… Let’s see how this job interview will turn out then, Colonel Moran, shall we?_


End file.
